


The Weight

by manicmama



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicmama/pseuds/manicmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>18 months after Dean's death, how is Castiel Novak coping? Sam goes to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight

**Author's Note:**

> A follow up to Blast from the Past.

It’s almost 18 months later, and a tall man in his mid thirties is walking up the front path of the Novak house. He rings the bell, and moments later a tired looking woman answers the door. 

“Mrs Amelia Novak?” The man asks.

“Yes, but.. I’m not expecting anyone – who are you?” She replies.

“My name is Sam Winchester, Mrs. Novak – may I come in?”

The name takes a moment to register, and then her face turns bitter and she begins to close the door.

“You and your brother did enough damage last time you were here! There’s nothing you have to say that I could possibly be interested in!” she spits.

“Wait!” and Sam shoves his arm against the door, stopping her from closing it. “My brother is dead, Mrs. Novak. I didn’t come here to distress you. But I need to speak with your husband.”

“He’s not here. And if you don’t move your arm I will scream and someone will call the police.” She bites out each syllable angrily.

“I need to speak to Castiel, Mrs. Novak.” Sam reiterates. “They told me at the station that he doesn’t work there anymore, and then told me to come and talk to you. They wouldn’t tell me any more than that. I really need to talk to him. Please help me.”

She stares at him for a minute longer, and at the pleading look on his face – then her shoulders slump and her face settles into weary, disappointed lines, and she opens the door.

“You might as well come in then. I’ll tell you where he is.” And she leads the way into the living room.

As Sam follows her into the house, a door opens further down the hallway and a young girl steps out – Claire, but looking very different from the last time Sam saw her. She has dyed her hair black with one red streak, and it falls over one of her heavily mascara’d eyes. She is wearing a lot of make-up, and a very low-cut top for a girl who is not yet fifteen. She has earbuds in and is swaying to the unheard music as she walks down the hall, giving Sam a very sassy look as she passes. Sam’s eyes follow Claire down the hall, slightly stunned, and then he catches Amelia’s ironic look and averts his gaze.

“She’s changed quite a bit, wouldn’t you say?” Amelia comments. “This last year or so has been very hard on us all, and Claire… well, Claire has become a bit rebellious. Please, sit down.” 

And she points to a chair across from hers, seating herself and smoothing her skirt across her knees.

“Castiel is in a mental hospital.” She tells Sam bluntly, registering the shock on his face. “He admitted himself almost a year ago, but they’re keeping him there now. He had what they tell me is a complete mental breakdown – we don’t visit him so much now – he doesn’t talk to us or respond in anyway. It started not long after.. after your brother died. Castiel seemed to take it on himself as he felt he must have been the last person to see Dean. He would never talk about what happened that evening .. we felt that Castiel felt responsible somehow, that he knew Dean’s state of mind and hadn’t been able to help him. Anyway,” she sighs “first he started having trouble with his job. They said his mind wasn’t on it and he lost a couple of big clients. Then he started having difficulties at the church. He said some wild things sometimes, made it sound like he was losing his faith, or being punished by God for something although he wouldn’t say what. He was a lay preacher, you know, which also meant he helped counsel our youth when they were having problems. A couple of times parents complained that the advice he was giving their kids didn’t fit with the church’s doctrine – he was telling kids to make their own choices, not necessarily the choices their parents wanted them to make. Eventually the church had to ask him to stand down – we could still attend, but he couldn’t take a part anymore. And then” here her mouth drew down in a bitter line “all those people we’d worshipped with for all those years, whose lives we’d shared – they started to ostracise us. There were whisperings about Castiel – about me – people I thought I could rely on started avoiding us – Claire’s friends told her that her Daddy had been possessed by the Devil.. and in the end, the elders asked us to stop coming – said we weren’t the sort of people they wanted in their community – so much for Christian charity, right?” and she barks a laugh.

Sam looks at her sympathetically.

“So – how did Castiel end up in the mental hospital?” he asks quietly

“Well, it didn’t take long.” Amelia replied. “He had no job – we were banned from our church, there was no one to turn to. He just sat all day, staring at the walls – sometimes he’d start crying. Sometimes he’d start drinking. I finally talked him into seeing a doctor, who said he was suffering from depression – he wanted to put Castiel on some medication, but Castiel felt he’d be better off admitting himself to Sunnyglade. He felt he could get round the clock care there, and would get better quicker. Instead” and she sighs, “the opposite happened. He just sank deeper and deeper into despair, the shrinks there said they never managed to get him to talk about what was really bothering him, and one day he just… stopped talking at all.” 

She bends her head to hide the tears that are beginning to trickle from her eyes.

“I don’t know if he’ll ever come out.” She whispers.

Sam considers for a moment. 

“Mrs Novak – I may be able to help. But if this is a secure facility, this Sunnyglade, then they won’t let me in without a letter from you or another of Castiel’s relatives. Would you do that for me?.. write a letter? I will come back and let you know what happened, whether I can get through to him or not.” 

She stares at him for a minute, and then shrugs, the defeat and disappointment of recent times clear on her face.

“Sure, I’ll write you a letter. I don’t see what you think a visit from you will do – how well could Castiel have known your brother, anyway? They only met once and that was so long ago – what on earth do you think you have to say that can make a difference now?”

Sam smiles at her.

“If things have got this bad for him, then anything’s worth a try – isn’t it?” he asks.

 

Later that day, Sam finds himself walking down a grey painted, well-lit corridor behind a female attendant with squeaky shoes. She is chatty, and apparently not very bright which surprises Sam. This is obviously a fairly expensive facility and he thought they would have the cream of staff on hand. She is also chewing gum, which Sam finds repellent.

“So, you come to see Mr Novak, huh? Poor guy, hasn’t said a word in ages – just sits there like a dummy. I go in, do his meds and check his charts, always say hi in my loudest voice, but he never answers. Just looks right through me.. creepy, sometimes!” and she shudders theatrically.

There are doors and reinforced windows at intervals along the hallway – each window looks on to a different patient, all lying prone in bed, all seemingly catatonic. They reach a window about halfway down the hall, and Sam sees Castiel. He is not lying on his bed, but it sitting on the edge of it, apparently staring out into the hallway. Sam almost reflexively raises a hand in a wave, but there is no response from Castiel. 

“See what I mean?” the attendant says, “Just like a great big dummy. Creepy, huh?” and she unlocks the door for Sam. “There’s a bellpush here when you want to leave, or if you need any help” she says, indicating a button on the wall “ but he probably won’t even know you’re here.”

Sam enters the room, pulls up the chair closer to the bed, and takes his first good look at Castiel as the attendant leaves, noisily locking the door behind her. He has only seen him once before and that was across a crowded fast-food restaurant 18 months ago – even so, the man in front of him bears little resemblance to Sam’s memory of him. His black wavy hair has turned dusty – not grey, but just lifeless and dull. His vivid blue eyes have also dulled, and almost seem to have a milky film over them. He is staring in an unfocussed way at a point in front of his window – Sam waves a hand in front of Castiel’s eyes and gets no reaction. He remembers what the doctor in charge of Castiel had told him:

“He’s not catatonic – he eats, uses the bathroom, sleeps sometimes. He just doesn’t respond to any stimuli whatsoever – it’s as if his mind has become a vast, humming blank. We are considering electroshock therapy, since the medications we tried have had no effect, but we do need familial consent before we proceed – and so far Mrs Novak has refused. “

Castiel’s mind is far from a blank – in fact it is filled to bursting.. he ‘walks through a garden of bright images’ in his head, each one brighter than the last, each one some facet of Dean –Dean leaning under the hood of Castiel’s car with his tshirt riding up. Dean smiling at him in bed, his head haloed by the setting sun. Dean laughing with his hair sticking up as he pulls his tshirt over his head. Dean tilting his head back to drink from a bottle of beer, showing the line of his neck and jaw.. Dean standing in a seedy motel room in just a faded pair of jeans, looking like an earthbound god… Deans green eyes closing tight as he comes hard.. Dean’s voice roughened by arousal… Dean’s soft mouth kissing him… Dean fucking him…Dean.. Dean.. Dean. There is no room for ‘outside stimuli’ – it gets in the way of his visions of Dean.  
Sam considers him for a few moment, then tries speaking to him.

“Mr Novak? Castiel?”

No response. 

“Castiel, can you hear me?”

No response.  
Sam sighs, but given what he’d been told, he really hadn’t expected much more. He has a few more tricks up his sleeve though, and isn’t ready to give up just yet.

“Castiel? My name is Sam Winchester. I’m Dean’s brother. Cas? Are you in there?”

There is a definite flicker in Castiel’s eyes, but still no real response. Sam is encouraged by even this slight sign, and continues.

“Cas! I know Dean called you Cas – he was always lazy.. he told me about you, Cas, told me about him and you.. and .. and he left a letter for you Cas. He never wanted you to blame yourself for what he did. Cas! Cas, can you hear me? I’m Dean’s brother, Sam Winchester.”

Castiel’s eyes flicker once more, but this time they slowly turn towards Sam. The gaze is still unfocussed, and Castiel’s mouth is slightly open, giving him a mindless look which Sam, actually does find a little creepy. But he is determined to get through, and so he repeats, gently,

“I’m Sam Winchester, Cas. I’m Dean’s brother. Do you remember Dean, Cas? He left you a letter.”

Castiel’s mouth opens a little further, and a rusty, tired whisper emerges, barely audible.

“Sa-a-am?”

Sam can barely restrain himself from leaping around the room, and grabbing Castiel in a bear hug. Here is this man, who hasn’t spoken for six months, and within ten minutes Sam has a response from him. Sam leans forward and takes Castiel’s hand, speaking slowly and distinctly to him.

“Cas, it’s great that you’re still in there, man! I need to know if you understand me, if you remember what’s happened. I am Sam Winchester, I’m Dean’s brother, and .. and Dean died a while ago, do you remember that?”

Castiel nods – his neck moves very stiffly, as if it hasn’t been moved for a while – his hand twitches slightly in Sam’s grasp. He opens his mouth again as if to speak, but nothing will come out except a rusty croaking sound. Sam turns and pushes the call bell.  
When the attendant arrives with a slightly harassed look, she is talking as she enters the room.

“Well, hell of a short visit, guy! I wouldn’ta bothered going to the eaterie if I’da known you’d want to leave so fast…” She pulls up short as she registers the change in Castiel. “Hey! Is he talking to you? Hey! Mr. Novak! You back with us? I’d better call the doc,” she says turning to leave.

Sam grabs her arm.

“Please! Don’t call his doctor just yet – I’ve barely got a response from him at all – he’s trying, but his throat is dry – could you just bring me some icewater please? He hasn’t used his vocal cords in a while.” 

And as she still hesitates, he continues “I’ll make it worth your while if you could just get me the icewater, and give us a little more time.” And he slips her a twenty. 

“Well – ok, but I ain’t gonna get in any trouble for this. I’ll get your icewater and give you halfhour – after that I’m coming back, and if he’s talking to you, I’m calling the doc, right?” she says.  
When the water comes, Sam holds the straw to Castiel’s mouth and watches his throat work as he swallows. He takes the glass away after a few sips, and resumes his hold on Castiel’s hand, somehow feeling that the physical contact is important.

“Castiel. Cas. I need to talk to you about Dean. Can you handle it?”

Castiel’s eyes fill with tears, and he emits another rusty croak, which turns into a full blown wail – gradually Sam can make out the words.

“Dean! He’s dead, and it’s my fault! I couldn’t even grieve for him, Sam.. couldn’t mourn him! No-one knew I loved him, and he’s dead! I couldn’t bear it – couldn’t bear the pain, and loss, and shame – I ran away here, Sam – I’m so, so sorry!” and the heavy sobs shake his frame pitiably.

Sam is overcome and reaches his arms around Castiel, holding him tight and rocking him in an effort to comfort him.

“Hey! Hey, Cas, it wasn’t your fault! Dean wanted you to know that, it wasn’t your fault! He left you a letter, Cas – I should have brought it to you a long time ago – I’m sorry that you’ve suffered, man – you can grieve now, with me, if you need to.”

And Sam’s eyes spill over with tears too.  
Castiel sobs in Sam’s arms until Sam begins to fear that the attendant will be back before they get any further, but gradually he quietens and after a while, sits up and frees himself from Sam’s hug. His posture has changed, he is no longer slumped, and his eyes have regained some brightness although they are red from his tears too. He runs his hands through his hair, leaving it standing up in spikes, and takes a deep breath.

“They brought in the verdict as Accidental Death, didn’t they, in the end?” Castiel asks. “But I knew.. I knew he’d killed himself – and that it was my fault. I left him when he needed me – I wouldn’t even listen..”

Sam sighs. “Yeah, they said it was Accidental Death – Dean set it up to look as if it could have been an accident. His blood alcohol was pretty high, and they said he must have slipped, smashed the mirror and cut himself when he fell – and was too drunk to get help before he passed out from loss of blood. But he left me a letter explaining what he’d done, and one for you too – he told me all about what had happened between you, and I knew about the time you stayed at Bobby’s. He told me that when I got back there, and he was drunk and too upset to know what he was saying.. I was kinda taken aback, for sure, but, well, he was my brother .. whatever made him happy was good enough for me. I hid the letters before I called the police, so that it wouldn’t be brought in as suicide – he didn’t want that.”

“I didn’t make him happy, though, Sam” whispers Castiel, looking at the floor. “I made him so unhappy he took his own life.. the weight of that is what brought me here.”

Sam sighs again, and runs a hand through his hair as he searches for the words to begin.

“You didn’t make him unhappy, man. The kind of life we lead – it’s hard, it’s always been hard for us. And Dean, well, he’d said more than once that he was tired, that he’d had enough, that he wanted an end to it all. I don’t think he really ever told you what it is we do – what he did – but take it from me, it’s not an easy life. We never had a home since our Mom died. Bobby was a friend of our Dad’s, and he’s always been good about letting us crash there, but since Dean was four, and I was still a baby, all we did was travel the country, from one crappy motel to another. Sometimes we got to stay in one place long enough to go to school for a while – that was tough, always being the new kid and never really staying long enough to make friends. Dean, when he got old enough, was a bit of a ladykiller, and the whole moving-on thing suited him down to the ground – gave him an air of mystery, and a good excuse for running out on the girl. The weekend he had with you changed him – I think he realised he probably never would get a chance to ‘settle down’, have a real home to go to. When he saw you again, it brought it all back – and he just felt the time was right to ..to step out of it all. I think he’d been planning to do it for a long time – but I know he never wanted you to suffer for his action, and he left you this letter.”

Sam reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out an envelope, creased and worn at the edges.

“I should have brought it to you before, but I.. I guess it took me a while to come to terms with not having him around – if I’d known how bad it was for you – I wish I’d come looking for you before!” he burst out.

Castiel smiles, the action looking strange and out of place on his ravaged face.

“It’s ok, Sam. I..”

But before he can finish the sentence, the door opens again, and the attendant is back accompanied by a doctor. And in the fuss his apparent recovery causes, and the interviews with various medical personnel which take up much of the rest of the day, it is evening before he finally gets a chance to read Dean’s letter. He sits on the edge of his bed looking at the envelope for a long while, before finally heaving a sigh and ripping open the flap. There is only one page in there, the writing on it very clear and more finely formed than Castiel had expected. He spreads open the paper and begins to read:

“Cas,

I’m sorry. I’ve had enough and I’m tired. I’m glad I got to see you again, and got to hold you, kiss you, be with you one more time – it felt like a good time to finish everything. I know we could never have made a life together – with what I do to live, and your faith making you feel guilty all the time, I don’t think we would have been happy. You made me happy, very happy, in the short times we had. They’ve been sparks of light in a dark and lonely life. It’s time it was over now. Don’t beat yourself up. This is not your fault.

Dean.”

Castiel can clearly hear Dean’s voice in his head as he reads the letter. Despite the lack of any endearments, he feels his eyes prickle with tears as he realises how deeply he felt for Dean, and how little he really knew about him. Sam left him his address and phone number, and Castiel feels that once he is allowed to leave this facility, once the doctors are convinced that he is recovered from his breakdown, then he will find Sam, and they will talk about Dean. He feels for the first time that the weight on his shoulders from all the lies and pretence over the years, might finally lift, and that in finding out more about this wonderful, handsome, laughing man who carried so much weight of his own, that he might find a reason to go on living himself.


End file.
